


The Good Stuff

by witchesdiner



Category: BoJack Horseman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-14 23:55:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13018911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchesdiner/pseuds/witchesdiner
Summary: Holiday BoJack ficlets that might form some kind of story by the time Christmas hits. Will update daily?





	1. Chapter 1

Dec 12 

“I have a gift for you! Get ready!” He started and then stopped because she was curled up around her laptop, clicking away and frowning. He tried to imagine her in ten more years with frown lines and he had to say, he loves it, she looks great, she always looks great but he wished he could make the lines more smile, less frown.

“A gift?” Diane sighed at him over her laptop. “Mr. Peanutbutter, it’s December 12th.”

“No, no, Diane, don’t worry,” he soothed. There was an awkward silence as the speech he had prepared dissolved into reality. He cleared his throat and carried on, because he could clear these sorts of awkward moments like a pro. Possibly because he did not often recognize how awkward they were. “Apparently, our deal with Starbucks is still going, despite the fact that our old house… you know…”

“Oh, I know,” she replied, grinning.

“Well, anyway, they sent us like a million vats of syrup so I got down to business,” he leaned forward with one hand to his mouth, the other still firmly behind his back, and whispered, “that means I texted Todd and he sent me YouTube tutorials and then I made you this refreshing seasonal beverage.”

Mr. Peanutbutter gave his best game show model impression as he presented it to her, quirking his hip in a way guaranteed to knock ‘em dead. Or at least illicit a snort out of Diane. Which it does.

“Oh, Mr. Peanutbutter, you shouldn’t have.” Diane waved a lazy hand at him and it’s enough for him to understand that this is sweet and thoughtful and not at all smothering.

He dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head before walking away, deciding to offer the helicopter tour of Quebec to BoJack instead. They really hadn’t bonded enough lately. What was up with that?

“You know what?” Diane asked, taking a long sip, “I think if TV doesn’t work out for you, you could have a fulfilling career as a barista. What is this- mint and caramel? I think I’m getting hazelnut notes.”

“You certainly are, sweetheart!”


	2. Chapter 2

Dec 13

“Is it too early? Is it too late? Oh, who cares.” BoJack kicked the ancient box at his feet, causing the flaps to pop open and reveal a disappointing puff of thirty year old tinsel.

_You big dumb horse, you idiot. It doesn’t matter how nice your Instagram looks, Hollyhock is gonna spend Christmas with her eight dads. And that’s better for you, her, the universe, and her eight stupid whimsical two barbershop quartets worth of dads who probably make delicious homemade craft blah blah stupid eggnog when you’d probably hand her something you forgot you put booze in. You stupid mess. You would totally do that. Ugh._

The phone rang and because his mother was locked away in creepy old person prison and at that very moment likely engaged in rocking in her chair facing the corner, humming some awful show tune from 1955, he answered without looking.

“Hello.”

“BoJack?” Diane asked and he could almost hear her blinking.

“You called me, Diane. Be less surprised by the results of your own actions.”

“I’m just not used to you answering so fast.”

“Well, I’m decorating and you know how annoying that is.”

“You are?”

“I am.” BoJack replied, pinching his nose.

“Decorating?”

“He is?!” A second voice gasped.

“Ugh, why do I hear Mr. Peanutbutter?” BoJack whined, pinching his nose harder. “Am I on speakerphone, Diane? Take me off speakerphone. You’re better than this, Diane.”

“Ask him if he wants us to come over and help! He has such a big place and as Grandma Peanutbutter says ‘more people makes a home smaller and easier to decorate.’ And what a card she was! You know, she--”

“Wait, she really said that?”

BoJack could imagine Diane turning to him, mouth half open. She was the dumbest smart person he’d ever met, but she was good company and if he could ignore Mr. Peanutbutter maybe it wouldn’t be all that bad if they…. No, it was bad.

“Oh my god, stop talking like I’m not right here,” BoJack interjected. Mr. Peanutbutter, of course, had elected to ignore him, preferring to bulldoze the next three to five hours of BoJack’s precious time on this ugly beautiful earth.

“Absolutely! Let’s head out now! I’ll bring eggnog!” Mr. Peanutbutter must have grabbed the phone, because his voice had become so loud it was distorting. BoJack held it a half foot from his ear and groaned. “BoJack!? You still there!? We’re coming for you and we’re not going to leave until your days are merry and bright! Or you give us figgy pudding!”

“Mr. Peanutbutter, I am not giving you figgy pudding.”

“Then the fun will never end!!”

“Diane, please. You can stop him.”

“I really can’t.”

“You’re laughing. And a traitor.”

BoJack hung up the phone and collapsed on the couch.

“Ugh, this couch is so lumpy,” he groused, shifting back and forth in the Groove Formerly Known as the Great Todd Canyon. “I wonder… If I blackout… would they decorate for me? Hmmm…"

BoJack stretched out an arm to reach for the bottle on the coffee table.

“I can’t… booze… too far away...”


End file.
